Science 

IN    THE 


FROM 

WW  H.KELLER. 

TEMPLE  OF  MUSIC. 

,      EASTON.PA. 


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TUFTS   UNIVERSITY   LIBRARIES 


^v«i£y/  ^V  „fc^-.\    '3"  9090 01T-549 360 


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CiirnminQS  School  of  Veterinary  Medicine  at 

Tufts  University 

200  Westboro  Road 

North  Grafton,  MA  01536 


d^^ 


^^t;-. 


Science  in  the  Stable 


OR, 


HOW  A  HORSE  CAN  BE  KEPT  IN  PERFECT  HEALTH 


AND 


BE  USED  WITHOUT  SHOES, 

IN  HARNESS  OR  UNDER  TME  SADDLE, 

WITH 

THE  REASONS  WHY. 


JACOB   R.  LUDLOW,  M.  D., 

Xate  Staff  Surgeon  Ta.  S,  Brm?. 
Xieut.sColonel  big  3Brevet. 


Easton,  Pa.: 

Press  of  The  Eschenbach  Printing  House. 

1894, 


THIS  LITTLE  MONOGRAPH 

IS 

RESPECTFULLY    DEDICATED 

TO   THE 

SURGEON  GENERAL 

OF 
THE  UNITED  STATES  ARMY, 

BY 

THE  AUTHOR. 


flH 


Copyrighted,  January,  i894. 


jV  TO  animal  so  mucH  enlists  our  sympa- 
thies as  tlie  Horse.  His  strength, 
beauty,  and  docility,  appeal  to  our  finer 
sentiments,  and  his  utility  makes  him  in- 
dispensable to  our  comfort,  and  often  an  ab- 
solute necessity  in  carrying  on  the  work  of 
life,  whether  of  business  or  pleasure.  But 
we  have  all  been  so  annoyed  by  the  many 
ailments  to  which  he  is  subject,  and  the  ill 
condition  into  which  he  so  often  falls,  that 
many  people  who  have  kept  horses  merely 
for  pleasure  have  been  led  to  dispense 
with  them  entirely. 

And  this  trouble  is  continually  on  the 


increase.  As  wealth  and  refinement  ad- 
vance, our  horses  are  becoming  more  and 
more  worthless. 

The  value  of  a  horse  depends,  chiefly, 
on  his  speed  and  endurance.  If  he  has 
endurance  without  speed,  he  still  has  a 
value ;  if  he  has  speed  with  great  endur- 
ance, he  is  invaluable.  But  if  he  has 
neither  speed  nor  endurance,  he  has  no 
value  whatever. 

I  have  frequently  noticed  the  possessors 
of  fine  teams  afraid  to  dash  out  fifteen  or 
twenty  miles  of  an  afternoon,  lest  their 
horses  should  suffer.  Others  drive  two  or 
three  miles  at  a  leisurely  gait,  every  few 
days,  apparently  to  benefit  the  health  of 
the  horse,  without  regard  to  their  own 
pleasure  or  amusement,  and  the  only  sat- 


isfaction  that  seems  possible  is  the  display 
of  a  fine-looking  and  well-groomed  team — 
a  mere  matter  of  pure  ostentation. 

The  horse  must  be  constantly  coddled, 
in  the  stable  and  out  of  the  stable.  He 
cannot  stop  any  considerable  time  without 
being  wrapped  up  in  a  warm  blanket,  and 
is  always  the  subject  of  much  care  and 
solicitude. 

Such  a  state  of  things  was  unknown  fifty 
years  ago.  Horses  were  then  subordinate 
to  man,  not  man  to  the  horse.  A  man 
then  took  no  pride  in  his  horse,  unless  he 
could  do  something.  He  recognized  the 
fact,  that  a  horse  was  a  locomotive  ani- 
mal, and  did  not  rate  him  high  unless  he 
could  go  and  endure.  Mere  beauty  of 
form  and  sleekness  of  coat,  however  desir- 


able,  did  not  satisfy.  They  did  not,  in 
those  days,  worship  '^  stable  furniture." 

Note,  that  at  that  time  blankets  were 
little  used, — never  on  saddle  horses, — and 
the  stables  were  carelessly  built  and  very 
open.  Glazed  windows  in  barns  or  sta- 
bles were  almost  unknown. 

Now-a-days  I  frequently  see  horses  com- 
ing from  the  country,  blanketed  to  the 
ears,  while  standing  in  the  street,  with  the 
thermometer  at  60,  and  the  sun  shining. 

Fully  half  the  horses  we  see  on  the 
street  are  stiff,  or  more  or  less  lame. 

Now  there  must  be  something  wrong  to 
account  for  all  this. 

Some  persons  have  ascribed  it,  in  rather 
a  nebulous  way,  to  the  effects  of  civiliza- 
tion.    But  how  does  civilization  act  upon 


the  horse,  to  produce  this  result  ?  Others 
again  lay  all  the  blame  on  the  horse's  shoes, 
and  the  farrier  is  found  fault  with. 

Those  who  refer  all  this  trouble  to  civil- 
ization, instance  the  horses  of  semi-civil- 
ized people,  that  are  exceptionally  hardy, 
although  they  receive  little  care,  and  a 
great  deal  of  bad  and  cruel  treatment. 
Those  who  put  all  the  blame  on  the  shoes 
and  the  farrier,  cite  these  same  people  in 
evidence,  and  because  they  never  shoe 
their  horses,  therefore,  the  argument  is, 
they  never  get  stiff  or  lame. 

I  think  I  shall  be  able  to  show  how 
civilization  injures  the  horse,  and  at  the 
same  time  makes  shoeing  necessary. 

When  we  inquire  into  the  natural 
history  of  the  horse,  we  find  that  he  is. 


lO 


pre-eminently^  an  outdoor  animal.  In  his 
wild  state  he  is  never  housed.  Night  and 
day  he  is  in  the  open  air.  Rain  or  shine, 
cold  or  hot,  in  storms  of  all  degrees, 
he  has  no  protection.  He  never  creeps 
into  caves  for  shelter,  like  the  bear ;  nor 
does  he  burrow,  like  the  rat  or  beaver. 
He  is  not  a  nest  builder,  nor  a  nest  seeker. 
He  stays  in  the  open,  seeking  the  lee  side 
of  a  hill,  or  thicket,  perhaps,  and  herding 
together  to  find  protection.  His  instincts 
keep  him  from  going  i7ito  thickets  for  cover 
to  avoid  the  attacks  of  carnivora.  He 
seeks  safety  by  flight,  and  therefore  pre- 
fers the  open  plain. 

If  we  notice  the  things  around  and 
about  us,  we  must  see  that  the  horse 
never  suffers  from  cold  as  man  suffers 
from  it. 


II 


No  one  has  ever  seen  a  horse  with  his 
ears  frozen,  nor  his  feet  frozen,  no  matter 
how  much  exposed  to  the  bitterest  cold. 
But  many  of  ns  have  had  personal  experi- 
ence of  frozen  ears,  and  I  have  seen  many 
persons  with  frozen  feet,  involving  the  loss 
of  the  whole  foot,  and  this,  in  spite  of 
wollen  stockings  and  warm,  thick  shoes, 
and  at  the  same  time,  not  exposed  to 
nearly  the  degree  of  cold  that  the  horse 
resists  without  detriment. 

When  we  undertake  to  care  for  an  ani- 
mal, the  first  and  most  essential  thing  is 
to  place  him  as  much  as  possible  in  his 
natural  environment. 

A  musk-ox  cannot  live  much  below 
the  confines  of  the  Arctic  region.  When 
seals   are    placed  in  the    aquarium   of  a 


12 


museum,  they  would  die  if  the  tank  was 
not  kept  constantly  supplied  with  ice. 
The  common  domestic  rabbit  will  thrive 
in  a  warren  ;  it  is  a  burrowing  animal,  and 
needs  protection  from  the  cold.  The  hare, 
or  our  common  wild  field  rabbit,  would  die 
in  a  warren ;  it  must  have  free,  fresh  air, 
which  the  common  domestic  rabbit  does 
not  need,  and  could  not  stand.  The  hawk 
would  die  in  a  cage  in  a  parlor,  while  the 
canary  bird  thrives  there  and  would  die 
of  cold  if  exposed  to  conditions  that  are 
essential  to  the  hawk. 

So  it  is  with  the  horse.  His  nature  re- 
quires an  abundance  of  fresh  air  all  the 
time^  and  he  cannot  be  well,  or  do  well, 
without  it. 

We    thoughtlessly    compare    a    horse 


13 

with  ourselves.  Man,  who  is  a  house- 
building animal,  requiring  warm  clothing, 
artificial  heat,  and  cooked  food,  fancies 
that  he  must  place  a  horse  in  surround- 
ings that  would  be  comfortable  to  himself. 
So  he  wraps  him  up  in  a  blanket,  and 
puts  him  in  a  warm  close  stable.  If  he 
has  the  means,  and  values  his  horse 
highly,  he  builds  him  a  stable  with 
matched  hard  wood,  oiled  and  polished, 
and  ceils  it  tight  overhead.  He  puts  in 
glazed  windows,  so  as  to  have  plenty  of 
light,  and  a  ventilating  shaft,  perhaps  a 
foot  in  diameter,  in  the  ceiling,  with  a  clos- 
ing valve,  which  is  always  shut  in  cold 
weather,  and  when  left  open,  ventilates  the 
stable  about  as  much  as  taking  a  cork 
out  of  a  bottle  ventilates   a  bottle.     He 


14 

puts  him  knee-deep  in  straw,  or  on  a  good 
thick  bed  of  saw-dust,  and  then  imagines 
his  horse  is  happy.  He  gives  him  the  best 
of  oats,  and  hay,  and  water,  and  would 
give  him  fried  oysters  and  chicken  salad  if 
the  horse  would  eat  it,  simply  because 
he  likes  such  things  himself. 

Now  he  shuts  his  horse  up  in  this  way 
to  keep  him  warm  and  comfortable.  He 
believes  his  horse  should  be  kept  warm 
because  he  himself  needs  warmth.  He 
quite  ignores  the  fact  that  he  does  not  try 
to  keep  his  own  apartments  warm  by  sim- 
ply closing  the  doors  and  windows,  but 
uses  stoves  and  heaters  to  keep  the  tem- 
perature comfortably  warm,  letting  in  fresh 
air  from  without.  He  knows  that  he  would 
be  injured  if  the  air  became  foul  and  close. 


15 

But  his  dominant  idea  being  warmth,  he 
loses  sight  of  the  fact,  that  in  shutting 
the  horse  up  in  a  close  room,  to  keep  him 
warm,  he  must  of  necessity  poison  him 
with  foul  air.  The  consequence  of  this  is, 
that  the  horse  rubs  himself,  and  tears  his 
blanket,  because  he  is  too  hot,  or  his  skin 
itches.  He  kicks  against  the  enclosure 
to  break  an  opening  to  let  in  the  air ;  he 
loses  his  appetite,  and  he  gets  stiff  or 
lame,  or  out  of  condition  in  some  way. 

Then  comes  veterinary  therapeutics,  and 
endless  contrivances,  to  correct  what  are 
considered  his  vicious  habits. 

The  trouble  is,  he  is  trying  to  make  an 
out-door  animal  live  in-doors,  and  that 
without  giving  him  decent  air  to  breathe. 
He    supplies    himself  with    a    constant 


i6 

change  of  air,  but  seems  to  think  that  his 
horse  needs  none.  What  he  thinks  most 
important  is  warmth.  He,  in  short,  is  try- 
ing to  keep  a  hawk  as  he  keeps  a  canary, 
or  to  force  a  field  rabbit  to  burrow  in  a 
warren. 

A  horse  that  gets  enough  to  eat  will  not 
be  mjured  by  the  cold^  nor  suffer  from  it  in 
any  way. 

Major  Arthur  T.  Fisher,  late  21st  Hus- 
sars, in  a  book  published  in  London,  1891, 
referring  to  this  subject,  records  many 
things  that  are  well  worth  repeating. 
On  page  8,  et.  seq,^  he  says:  ''Without 
''the  requisite  supply  of  fresh  air,  it  is 
"impossible  to  maintain  horses  in  perfect 
"health  and  condition.  The  wilful,  pig- 
"  headed  ignorance  of  grooms,  in  this  re- 


17 

"spect,  is  proverbial.  They  are  so  afraid 
"that  the  horses  under  their  charge  will 
"catch  cold,  and  their  coats  will  "stare," 
"as  it  is  termed,  that  they  invariably  stop 
"up  every  crevice  and  ventilator  in  a 
"stable,  in  cold  weather,  thereby  thinking 
"to  secure  the  end  they  have  in  view, 
"whereas  they  are  all  the  time  but  taking 
"the  most  certain  steps  to  insure  the  very 
"  evil  they  would  avert.  It  is  well  known, 
"and  I  may  say,  an  undisputed  fact  by 
"all  those  who  know  anything  about  the 
"subject,  that  horses,  young  horses  espe- 
"  cially,  on  coming  into  stables  from  grass, 
"are  nearly  always  affected  with  throat, 
"  and  often  with  lung  ailments,  in  a  greater 
"  or  less  degree,  while  assuming  the  reverse 
"  to  be  the  case,  and  when  they  are  removed 


i8 

^'  from  stables  to  grass,  they  rarely,  if  ever, 
"suffer  from  tHe  change,  thus  proving 
"how  absolutely  essential  pure  air  is  to 
"their  well-doing.  Despite  all  that  has 
"  from  time  to  time  been  advanced  on  this 
"subject,  excepting  in  large  establish- 
"ments,  a  well  and  properly  ventilated 
"  stable  seems  to  be  the  exception  rather 
"than  the  rule,  and  there  are  many  of  the 
"  larger  establishments,  which  I  could  name 
"  if  I  chose,  where  such  details  are  very 
"unduly  cared  for,  and  the  ventilation  is 
"  by  no  means  what  it  should  be,  although 
"the  fittings,  etc.,  of  the  stable  may  be 
"very  smart  and  lavishly  carried  out  in 
"other  respects  and  the  horses'  names 
"painted  up  in  gold  letters,  etc.,  and  all 
"  that  style  of  thing,  I  have  very  often  in 


19 

^^  such  stables  been  well  nigh,  stifled  with 
''the  overloaded  atmosphere  *  *  *  .  In 
''cavalry  regiments,  young  horses  which 
"are  purchased  as  remounts,  are  chiefly 
"obtained  in  Ireland,  and  these  come  over 
"  thence,  in  batches,  varying  in  number  as 
''they  are  required.  They  are  packed  in 
"cattle  trucks,  and  started  on  their  jour- 
"ney,  and  often  have  to  travel  in  severe 
"weather,  with  no  other  protection  from 
"  cold  than  their  own  coats.  Yet,  on  their 
"arrival,  few,  as  a  rule,  seem  any  the 
"  worse  for  it,  beyond  fatigue  and  accidents, 
"the  result  of  kicks,  etc.,  and  it  is  very 
"  rarely,  if  ever,  that  they  are  affected  with 
"coughs  and  colds.  They  are  nearly  all 
"  brought  straight  from  grass,  yet,  within  a 
"  few  days  after  being  placed  in  stables,  and 


20 


"with  every  precaution  taken  to  insure 
"  ventilation,  the  doors  and  windows  of  the 
"stable  being  left  open  day  and  night, 
"  and  but  very  few  being  placed  in  each 
"  stable,  they  nearly  all  suffer  from  coughs 
"and  colds,  which  generally  end  in  stran- 
"  gles.  During  the  autumn  maneuvers  of 
"  1875,  I  was  with  my  own  regiment,  and 
"two  other  cavalry  regiments,  encamped 
"  for  some  days,  in  a  place  called  Colony 
"  Bog,  near  Aldershot.  It  was  a  time  to 
"be  remembered  very  ruefully  by  all  who 
"  took  part  in  them,  by  reason  of  its  cheer- 
"less,  wet  misery,  for  during  the  ten  days 
"  we  were  there,  I  can  truthfully  assert, 
"that  it  rained  almost  incessantly,  day 
"  and  night,  and  what,  even  in  a  dry  sum- 
"mer,  was  always  more  or  less  of  a  bog. 


21 


became  a  lake.  Until  we  had  been  tliere 
for  some  days,  exposed  to  all  tbis  incle- 
mency of  tbe  weather,  the  horses  had 
not  as  much  as  even  a  single  blanket  to 
cover  them,  and  yet,  notwithstanding  this 
exposure,  though  it  is  true,  they  were 
affected  by  the  cold  and  wet,  (and  it  was 
cold  and  wet),  in  other  ways,  colds  and 
coughs  were  unheard  of.  Again,  at  the 
same  time,  an  officer  of  my  regiment 
had,  of  necessity,  to  take  out  with  him 
into  camp — he  being  short  of  horses  — 
an  old  and  favorite  charger,  which,  at  the 
time  of  her  going  out  of  the  stables  in 
barracks,  was  suffering  from  a  severe 
cold.  In  a  few  days  she  was  quite  well 
again.  *  *  .  If  people  would  but  give 
their  horses  a  chance  of  breathing  the 


22 


"  air  they  should  breathe,  and  which  is  so 

"  essential  for  them,  they  would  save  them- 

"  selves  much  anxiety  and  expense,  con- 

"  sequent  upon  the  frequent  visits  of  the 

'^  veterinary    surgeon,    and    their    horses 

"would  be  more  fit  to  look  at,  and  more 

"fit  to  go,  than  is  but  too  often  the  case. 
♦     *     *     * 

"  Generally  speaking,  a  horse  does  not 
"catch  cold  from  exposure.  It  is  rather 
"from  the  want  of  fresh,  pure  air,  as  I  en- 
"deavored  to  show  at  the  commencement 
"of  this  book  (as  above  quoted  in  full). 
"With  mankind,  a  cold  generally  is  fol- 
"  lowed  by  a  cough ;  with  a  horse  the  cough 
"generally  precedes  the  cold.  A  horse 
"  coughs,  and  the  groom  declares  it  to  be 
"nothing  but  a  little  stable  cough.     This 


23 

"description  should  be  rendered  as  a  hot 
"stable  cough.  In  such  a  case,  it  is  more 
"than  probable  that,  there  being  an  utter 
"absence  of  proper  ventilation  in  the  sta- 
"ble,  the  impure  vitiated  air  had  irritated 
^' the  mucous  membrane,  and  so  caused  the 
"cough.  The  irritation,  unless  treated 
"promptly,  spreads,  and  a  cold  is  the  re- 
"sult;  the  horse  gets  dull  and  restless, 
"  refuses  his  corn,  and  all  the  several  stages 
"of  a  bad  cold  ensue;  the  nostrils  dis- 
"  charge,  the  poor  horse  is  perfectly 
"wretched,  the  owner  is  obliged  to  walk, 
"  and  has  probably  to  pay  a  veterinary  sur- 
"geon  a  long  bill,  and  all  for  the  want  of 
"a  little  attention  to  proper  ventilation." 
The  above  is  from  an  officer  known  as 
one  of  the  very  best  and  most  accom- 
plished horsemen  in  England. 


24 

His  views  of  taking  care  of  horses  are, 
However,  entirely  from  tHe  standpoint  of 
the  horseman^  and  in  otHer  parts  of  His 
book  I  notice  that  he  does  not  always 
carry  His  deductions  from  the  observed 
facts  to  their  logical  conclusions.  In  his 
chapter  on  the  construction  of  stables,  he 
falls  into  the  common  error  of  thinking 
and  acting  as  if  the  horse  might  be  injured 
by  too  much  fresh  air,  and  therefore,  in 
many  places,  gives  directions  about  wrap- 
ping him  up  and  regulating  the  amount 
of  ventilation  permissable. 

Not  fully  appreciating  the  physiological 
principles  involved  that  should  govern  in 
this  matter,  he  is  prone  to  be  misled  by 
his  own  subjectivities,  and  perhaps  an 
unconscious  traditional  bias,  and  therefore 


25 

too  often  ignores  what  lie  sees  and  records 
as  objective  facts,  in  favor  of  some  unscien- 
tific fancies. 

I  have,  however,  quoted  his  facts  and 
observations  freely  because  these  accord 
with  my  own  experience,  and  as  adding 
very  valuable  testimony  on  this  subject. 
But  to  resume. 

It  is  very  well  known  that  the  young 
horses  that  are  brought  from  the  west  for 
the  eastern  markets  are  kept  out  of  doors 
constantly,  in  all  seasons  of  the  year,  with- 
out shelter,  except  perhaps,  in  some  cases, 
an  open  shed  for  protection  against  the 
worst  storms,  and  they  come  east  in  ex- 
cellent condition,  clean-limbed,  supple  and 
healthy.  But  very  soon  after  their  arrival 
they  are  put  in  warm,  close  stables,  and 


26 

they  suffer  from  sickness,  and  this  is  called 
getting  acclimated,  when  the  truth  is,  they 
get  sick  simply  because  deprived  of  the 
pure  air  that  is  essential  to  their  vigor 
and  health. 

It  matters  not  whether  the  air  is  hot,  as 
in  our  summers,  or  cold,  as  in  our  winters; 
they  equally  enjoy  it,  and  thrive  only 
when  the  air  is  pure  and  fresh.  Coldness, 
or  heat,  is  of  the  smallest  consequence. 
Freshness  is  essential.  Dryness,  or  damp- 
ness, counts  little.  A  horse  will  be  per- 
fectly well  in  a  damp,  dewy  meadow,  when 
kept  their  night  and  day,  and  in  all  kinds 
of  weather.  Dampness  is  nothing.  Fresh- 
ness is  everything. 

And  now  let  us  inquire  why  this  fresh- 
ness is  so  essential. 


27 

When  the  blood  has  been  distributed 
to  the  various  parts  of  the  body,  by  the 
arteries,  and  has  served  its  purpose  of  nour- 
ishing the  tissues,  it  is  picked  up  by  the 
venous  capillaries,  and  carried  back,  by 
the  veins,  to  the  heart,  for  redistribution. 
It  is  now  forced  to  go  through  a  process 
of  purification  before  re-entering  the  arte- 
ries. It  comes  back  to  the  heart,  purple 
in  color,  loaded  with  carbon  waste,  and 
the  effete  remains,  of  the  growth  and  de- 
cay of  cells.  Not  one  drop  of  that  blood 
is  allowed  to  enter  the  arteries  again  until 
it  has  passed  through  the  lungs  and  been 
exposed  freely  to  fresh  air.  Not  only  this, 
but  the  fluid  contents  of  all  the  lympha- 
tics, and  of  all  the  lacteals  with  their  loads 
of  emulsed   fat,   and   the   new   material. 


28 

from  tlie  stomach  and  liver  digestion,  are 
all  mixed  with  the  blood  in  the  veins,  on 
its  way  to  the  lungs.  Nature  emphasizes 
this  process  in  a  marked  degree.  Only  a 
portion  of  the  blood  is  sent  to  the  kidneys 
for  purification,  and  yet  this  purification 
is  essential  to  life.  But  in  the  case  of  the 
lung  circulation,  every  drop  must  go  — 
new  material,  and  old  material, —  all  must 
receive  the  vivifying  effect  of  fresh  air. 
Here,  in  the  lungs,  the  blood  is  quickly 
changed  from  purple  to  scarlet.  The  car- 
bon wastes  seize  upon  the  oxygen  of  the 
air,  and  are  burned  up,  throwing  off,  as 
the  result,  chiefly  carbonic  acid  gas,  just 
as  a  stove  sets  off  carbonic  acid  gas  by 
the  burning  of  coal.  Various  volatile  sub- 
stances are  at  the  same  time  got  rid  of, 


29 

which  give  more  or  less  odor  to  the  breath, 
and  these,  with  the  carbonic  acid,  etc.,  are 
exhaled  by  the  animal  with  every  breath. 
Now,  the  result  of  this  combustion  of 
material  in  the  lungs  is,  as  in  the  stove, 
productive  of  heat  and  here  we  find  the 
great  source  of  animal  heat.  Every  time 
the  animal  takes  in  a  breath  of  air,  it  con- 
sumes a  portion  of  the  oxygen  of  the  air, 
in  making  heat  and  carbonic  acid,  and  as 
this  process  goes  on,  ten  or  fifteen  times  a 
minute,  the  air  in  a  circumscribed  space, 
as  in  a  close  room  or  stable,  becomes  rap- 
idly exhausted  of  oxygen  and  overloaded 
with  carbonic  acid  and  other  impurities, 
and  less  and  less  fit  to  carry  on  the  vital 
processes.  New  oxygen  must  be  supplied, 
and  the  carbonic  acid  blown  away.     If  it 


30 

IS  not  supplied,  as  in  the  case  of  a  close 
stable,  the  purple,  impure  venous  blood, 
coming  to  the  lungs,  finds  an  inadequate 
supply  of  oxygen,  and  the  changes  so  es- 
sential to  life  are  only  partially  effected. 
The  waste  is  not  all  consumed,  and,  con- 
sequently, we  have  loss  of  animal  heat  not 
only,  but  the  unburned  tissue  waste  is 
carried  back  by  the  arteries  to  the  tissues, 
in  spite  of  nature's  care  to  prevent  it,  and 
acts  as  a  poison  to  the  whole  body. 

Nature,  truly,  sets  up  certain  vicarious 
actions,  to  partially  remedy  the  defect,  but 
is  handicapped  in  its  efforts.  It  sets  the 
kidneys  to  do  extra  work,  and  the  urine 
becomes  loaded,  and  the  kidneys  may  suf- 
fer damage,  for  trying  to  do  what  should 
have  been  done  in  the  lungs.     The  skin 


31 

takes  on  extra  duty,  and  we  have  excessive 
sweating ;  and  various  scaly,  itching,  and 
unsightly  eruptions  make  their  appear- 
ance. 

These  unburned  and  poisonous  tissue 
wastes  affect  the  muscles,  and  stiffness  of 
the  shoulder  manifests  itself,  or  weakness 
of  the  back,  or  muscular  defect  somewhere. 
The  hoofs  become  slowly  impaired  and 
lose  their  toughness,  and  become  brittle 
and  weak.  The  nervous  system  suffers, 
and  the  animal  loses  vivacity,  vigor  and 
endurance.  Touching  the  brain,  you  have 
the  temporary  delirium,  known  as  ''blind 
staggers."  Affecting  the  co-ordinating 
centres,  you  have  stumbling  and  ''string- 
halt."  Settling  upon  the  digestive  tract, 
"crib  biting"  and  "wind   sucking"    and 


32 

colic  appear.  Affecting  the  ligamentous 
and  bony  parts,  ''spavin"  and  ''splint" 
result,  and  in  tHe  eye  all  those  changes  of 
nutrition  which  result  in  partial  or  com- 
plete blindness.  I  think  it  is  not  too  much 
to  say,  that  about  98  per  cent,  of  the  disa- 
bilities to  which  horses  are  at  present  lia- 
ble are  traceable  to  deficient  oxidation  of 
the  tissues,  caused  by  withholding  the 
supply  of  fresh  air  which  their  nature  re- 
quires. 

When  a  horse  is  violently  exercised,  all 
the  tissue  changes  are  accelerated.  The 
heart  beats  quicker.  The  breathing  is 
hurried.  Why  ?  Because  there  is  more 
waste  tissue  to  be  disposed  of  The  blood 
rushes  to  the  lungs  for  more  oxygen,  and 
the  lungs  hurry  the  breathing  to  meet  the 
demand. 


33 

If  the  horse  is  in  good  condition,  the 
blood  well  oxydized,  and  the  cells  of  the 
various  tissues  thoroughly  healthy,  as  in 
a  horse  who  has  been  liberally  supplied 
with  fresh  air,  the  blood  rapidly  takes  up 
the  oxygen,  the  extra  waste  caused  by  the 
exercise  is  burned  up,  and  exhaled  as  car- 
bonic acid  gas,  and  becomes  harmless. 

Of  course,  the  extra  heat  generated  by 
the  increasing  supply  of  waste,  and  its 
rapid  combustion  in  the  lungs,  warms  up 
the  body,  and,  as  the  organism  would  be 
seriously  damaged  if  the  temperature  rose 
above  99  degrees,  the  automatic  mechan- 
ism that  regulates  the  temperature  causes 
an  increased  action  of  the  sweat  glands  of 
the  skin,  and  the  coat  of  the  animal  be- 
comes wet  with   perspiration,  or,  merely 


34 

moistened,  in  proportion  to  the  violence 
of  the  exercise  and  the  state  of  the  weather ; 
and  the  evaporation  of  this  perspiration 
cools  down  the  body  and  keeps  it  at  the 
normal  temperature,  and  no  harm  to  the 
animal  results. 

But  if  the  horse  has  been  deprived  of 
his  full  allowance  of  air  by  a  period  of 
close  stabling,  and  his  blood  is  only  par- 
tially oxydized  when  this  fresh  rush  of 
tissue  waste  is  poured  into  the  blood,  the 
lungs  become  congested  because  they  are 
behind  their  work  and  cannot  dispose  of 
the  extra  load  put  upon  them,  and  it  is  not 
an  uncommon  occurrence  for  such  horses 
to  die  from  this  lung  congestion  in  a 
short  time,  or  from  a  resultant  pneumonia, 
and  if  they  recover  at  all,  they  are  a  long 


35 

time  in  bad  condition,  to  tlie  great  loss 
and  inconvenience  of  the  owner. 

Even  if  the  horse  escapes  the  immedi- 
ate danger  to  the  Inngs,  the  increased 
waste,  chiefly  of  the  muscles,  caused  by 
the  severe  exercise,  increases  the  demand 
for  oxygen,  and  if  he  is  taken  back  to  his 
accustomed  close  stable,  where  the  supply 
of  oxygen  is  insufficient,  his  embarrass- 
ment is  very  much  aggravated,  and  the 
blood  becomes  more  loaded  than  before 
with  these  unconsumed  materials,  which, 
floating  in  the  blood  current,  act,  as  I  said 
before,  as  poisons  to  the  tissues,  especially 
to  the  muscles,  which  are  supplied  with 
an  enormous  amount  of  blood,  and  there- 
fore are  much  more  exposed  to  the  action 
of  these  poisons ;  and  the  muscles,  being 


3^ 

the  motive  power  of  the  animal,  are  among 
the  first  of  the  organs  to  show  that  they 
suffer ;  and  it  is  after  violent  and  continued 
exercise  that,  in  horses  kept  as  described, 
we  often  have  an  acute  or  sudden  attack 
of  muscular  breakdown,  commonly  called 
"chest  founder." 

Now,  it  can  be  seen  readily,  I  think, 
that  a  horse  in  the  condition  above  de- 
scribed would  have  had  a  much  better 
chance  to  recover  if,  instead  of  being 
closely  stabled  after  the  exercise,  he  had 
been  left  for  hours  in  the  open  air.  That 
might  have  given  him  the  necessary  oxy- 
gen to  dispose  of  his  extra  load  of  waste. 

In  speaking  of  the  automatic  action  of 
the  heat  regulators,  alluded  to  before,  it 
might  be  as  well  to  digress  a  little,  and 


37 

inquire  as  to  the  propriety  of  warmly 
blanketing  horses  after  severe  exercise. 
What  is  the  condition  of  the  animal  that 
comes  in  reeking  with  swxat  ?  It  is  cer- 
tain that  his  body  has  been  extremely 
heated,  as  shown  by  his  sweating.  What 
will  happen  if  he  is  allowed  to  stand  in 
the  open  air  ?  The  horse  is  still  panting, 
which  shows  that  he  is  hurrying  the  com- 
bustion of  his  tissue  waste ;  the  heart  is 
beating  quickly,  to  send  the  blood  quickly 
to  the  lungs,  to  have  its  burden  of  waste 
products  burned  up,  and  consequently, 
he  is  thereby  still  making  an  additional 
amount  of  heat.  If  allowed  to  stand  in 
the  open  air,  the  extra  heat  being  genera- 
ted will  quickly  dry  the  coat,  and  as  the 
heat  subsides,  the  hair  will  rise  slowly,  if 


38 

the  air  is  cool,  or  cold,  and  thus  prevent 
the  too  rapid  dissipation  of  the  heat,  and 
the  animal  resumes  his  condition  as  be- 
fore. 

The  self-regulating  heat  apparatus  will 
bear  some  consideration,  and  it  may  as 
well  be  spoken  of  in  this  connection. 

When  the  air  is  mild,  the  coat  will  re- 
main smooth.  If  the  air  becomes  cooler, 
the  coat  will  rise,  just  in  proportion  to  the 
change  of  temperature,  and  becomes  loose 
and  fluffy  in  the  cold.  This,  practically, 
thickens  the  coat  and  makes  it  warmer. 
If,  however,  a  horse  that  is  sufficiently  fed, 
suffers  from  cold  which  the  rising  of  the 
coat  is  not  adequate  to  relieve,  another 
automatic  operation  is  set  to  work,  and  he 
begins  to  shiver;  that  is,  the  muscles  that 


39 

move  the  skin,  and  whose  common  use  is 
to  shake  off  insects  that  annoy  the  animal, 
are  set  in  motion  all  over  the  body,  and 
this  adds  to  the  heat  production,  by  in- 
creasing the  waste  of  tissue, — just  as  the 
exercise  of  the  muscles  of  locomotion  have 
that  effect  when  the  animal  is  at  work. 

Now,  if  the  air  becomes  warmer,  or  the 
horse  is  exercised,  the  coat  will  slowly  fall. 
Thus,  when  it  is  necessary  to  keep  in  and 
preserve  the  heat,  the  coat  rises,  and  prac- 
tically becomes  thicker,  just  enough  to  pre- 
serv^e  the  proper  equilibrium  of  tempera- 
ture, not  allowing  it  to  fall  much  below 
99  degrees,  and  when  it  is  necessary  to 
increase  the  heat  dissipation,  the  coat  falls, 
or  slowly  becomes  moist,  just  enough  to 
control  the  temperature  from  rising  above 
99  degrees. 


40 

In  a  healtliy  horse  in  summer,  a  reverse 
action  may  be  observed.  If  the  animal  is 
standing  or  moving  slowly  in  the  hot  sun, 
the  hair  will  be  seen  to  rise,  to  shut  off  the 
effect  of  the  sun  and  to  preserve  the  skin 
from  being  too  much  heated.  Here  the 
coat  is  practically  thickened,  to  keep  the 
sun  from  injuring  the  skin — to  keep  the 
heat  out, — just,  as  in  winter,  the  coat  rises 
to  keep  the  heat  in. 

I  have  often  noticed  the  rising  of  the 
summer  coat  in  the  hot  sunshine.  It  puts 
on  the  appearance  of  cut  velvet.  The  far- 
mers say  the  horse  raises  his  coat  to  keep 
off  the  flies. 

If,  however,  when  the  summer  coat  is 
up  against  the  sun's  rays,  you  quicken  his 
motion,  and  consequently  his  internal  fires, 


41 

down  will  go  his  coat,  and  moisture  will 
begin  to  appear.  He  is  now  cooling  him- 
self, by  the  process  of  evaporation,  just  as 
he  does  with  his  winter  coat  in  cold  weather. 
We  have  been  considering  the  condition 
of  a  horse  just  brought  in  after  severe  ex- 
ercise. Shall  he  be  closely  stabled  and 
blanketed  ?  I  have  tried  to  show  that  this 
is  not  good  practice.  Scarcely  any  one 
would  think  of  throwing  him  a  mess  of 
grain  immediately.  Yet  there  is  a  phy- 
siological reason  for  this,  which  it  might 
be  well  to  consider.  When  a  horse  is 
brought  in  hot  and  sweating,  we  have 
shown  that  this  condition  is  owing  to  the 
rapid  combustion  of  his  tissue  waste.  He 
has  now  all  he  wants  to  do  until  he  cools 
off  by  the  evaporation  of  the  wetting  na- 


42 

ture  has  given  him  and  the  gradual  sub- 
sidence of  his  internal  fires.  If  we  now 
give  him  a  mess  of  grain,  we  are  adding 
fresh  fuel  to  the  fires,  as  the  newly  diges- 
ted grain  is  poured  into  the  blood  and 
carried  on  into  the  lungs,  increasing  the 
work  of  the  lungs.  Thus  scientific  theory 
is  perfectly  in  accordance  with  the  ordinary 
practice  of  horsemen  in  this  particular. 

Whether  the  withholding  of  water  is  of 
so  much  importance,  I  am  not  prepared  to 
say.  There  seems  to  be  some  difference 
of  opinion  on  that  subject.  It  is  proba- 
bly safer  to  err  on  the  side  of  care.  Yet 
the  loss  of  water,  by  the  sweating  of  the 
animal,  would  seem  to  indicate  that  the 
loss  should  be  made  good,  and  his  thirst 
will  always  induce  him  to  drink.     If  the 


43 

water  was  warmed,  it  could  not  do  harm, 
and  might  be  of  great  advantage,  by  in- 
creasing the  fluidity  of  the  blood.  The 
practice  in  regard  to  this  seems  to  vary  in 
different  localities,  and  experience  ought 
to  settle  the  question. 

But  it  can  only  be  settled  satisfactorily 
by  experience  with  horses  that  have  not 
been  closely  confined  in  stables,  because 
horses  that  have  been  deprived  of  their 
full  allowance  of  air  for  any  considerable 
time  are  in  a  pathological  condition,  and 
what  would  obtain  with  them  could  not 
be  predicated  of  horses  in  perfect  health. 
The  experience  of  our  "cowboys"  would 
be  of  value  on  this  point.  It  is  a  common 
practice,  however,  of  many  owners  of  horses 
in  the  South  and  West  to  ride  their  horses 


44 

until  they  are  reeking  witli  sweat,  let  them 
drink  when  they  please,  and  leave  them 
in  the  open  air,  without  protection  of  any 
kind.  But  these  horses,  if  stabled  at  all, 
are  kept  in  stables  about  as  fresh  as  out- 
doors. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  automatic  arrange- 
ment for  regulating  and  maintaining  a 
normal  temperature  existing  in  a  healthy 
horse.  When  horses  have  been  too  closely 
stabled  the  delicacy  of  this  mechanism  is 
impaired.  Their  skins  seem  to  be  unnat- 
urally wet,  and  the  perspiration  oozes  out 
on  the  slightest  exertion,  and  when  in 
their  summer  coats  a  very  short  drive  will 
give  them  the  appearance  of  being  var- 
nished. This  is  looked  upon  by  many  as 
a  marvel  of  skillful  grooming.     It  is  sim- 


45 

ply  a  pathological  condition — a  sort  of 
colliquative  sweat.  When  in  winter  coat 
it  causes  so  mucli  inconvenience  that  it 
has  induced  a  practice,  now  quite  general, 
of  clipping  or  singeing — removing  the 
winter  coat  entirely, —  and  this  seems  to 
be  necessary,  and  even  advantageous,  un- 
der these  circumstances. 

But  this  whole  trouble,  this  inordinate 
sweating,  this  ''leaky  skin,"  is  produced 
by  the  poisonous  action  of  the  unconsumed 
tissue  w^aste,  caused  by  the  deprivation  of 
oxygen,  acting  probably  through  the  vaso- 
motor nerves,  deranging  the  delicate  ad- 
justments so  essential  to  health. 

I  wish  here  to  call  attention  to  a  fact 
which  is  a  matter  of  common  observation. 

It  has  often  been  noticed  that  horses 


46 

will  sometimes  shiver  in  a  close  stable  in 
cold  weather.  The  thing  that  naturally 
suggests  itself  to  the  keeper  is  a  blanket, 
and  I  have  known  at  least  three  blankets 
to  be  applied,  and  the  animal  would  shiver 
still.  Now,  paradoxical  as  it  may  at  first 
appear,  this  shivering  is  produced  by  the 
closeness  of  the  stable,  and  if  the  animal 
is  taken  outdoors  this  shivering  will  in  a 
short  time  cease.  It  will  be  remembered, 
as  has  been  stated  before,  that  the  great 
source  of  animal  heat  is  the  oxidation  of 
the  tissues.  If  the  animal  is  kept  in  an 
enclosure  where  the  oxygen  supply  is  de- 
ficient, he  cannot  bum  his  tissue  waste 
well,  and  therefore  cannot  keep  up  his 
heat ;  he  is  cooling  down  too  much.  If 
you  cut  off  the  supply  of  material  to  be 


47 

burned,  as  in  starving  animals,  they  will 
sHiver  too.  It  makes  no  difference,  as  to 
tlie  production  of  animal  heat,  whether 
you  give  insufficient  food  or  insufficient 
oxygen.  The  result  as  to  heat  production 
will  be  the  same,  just  as  in  a  stove  you 
get  similar  results  from  using  little  fuel 
or  shutting  off  the  draft.  In  other  words, 
you  get  the  same  objective  symptom  of 
shivering  whether  you  starve  the  animal 
by  withholding  food  or  withholding  oxy- 
gen. 

When  food  supply  is  in  excess,  espec- 
ially if  the  amount  of  fresh  air  is  limited, 
nature  has  a  fashion  of  relieving  the  blood 
of  the  excess  of  carbonaceous  material  by 
storing  it  up  as  fat — and  especially  as 
subcutaneous  fat, — and  the  animal,  instead 


48 

of  burning  the  excess  or  excreting  it  in 
any  way,  packs  it  up  for  future  use,  and 
in  this  way  renders  it  harmless. 

Now  this  is  all  very  well  for  a  prize  ox 
intended  for  the  shambles  or  exhibition  at 
a  county  fair,  but  the  excess  of  fat  is  an 
encumbrance  to  the  horse,  by  its  added 
weight  not  only,  but  a  heavy  layer  of  fat 
under  the  skin,  by  its  non-conducting 
properties,  keeps  in  the  animal  heat,  and 
in  one  that  is  driven  rapidly  is  a  serious 
impediment,  and  requires  a  more  profuse 
perspiration  to  preserve  the  equilibrium 
of  temperature.  All  practical  horsemen 
know  this,  and  avoid  driving  a  very  fat 
animal  at  a  rapid  rate.  Horses  used  for 
racing  are  "trained  down"  by  active  ex- 
ercise, to  prevent  this  accumulation,  and 


49 

instead  of  fatness  we  have  force.  Some 
persons  take  great  pride  in  having  their 
horses  look  fat,  and  smooth,  and  plump ; 
and  this  is  all  very  well  for  those  who  like 
it  and  are  satisfied  with  a  three-  or  four- 
mile-an-hour  gait,  but  it  will  not  do  for 
rapid  traveling.  It  will  answer  for  a  mill 
horse  or  a  brewer's  team,  but  not  for  a 
roadster,  or  a  trotter,  or  a  hunter. 

I  think  I  have  now  shown  sufficiently 
how  civilization,  or  at  least  our  civiliza- 
tion, causes  the  infirm  condition  of  our 
horses,  and  how  it  necessitates  the  use  of 
shoes,  because  horses  kept  as  our  horses 
are  commonly  kept  cannot  be  driven  with- 
out shoes.  The  hoof  will  not  get  used  to 
it,  and  every  trial  of  this  kind  will  result 
in  failure. 


50 

But  if  we  consider  the  subject  carefully, 
we  must  see  that  all  people  who  use  their 
horses  without  shoes  have  one  thing  in 
common,  and  only  one  thing,  and  it  is 
this  :  that  none  of  them  have  stables. 

There  is  no  exception  to  this  rule. 
Therefore,  if  w^e  wish  to  dispense  with 
shoes,  we  must  dispense  with  stables.  But 
it  is  next  to  impossible  to  dispense  with 
stables,  absolutely  so  in  cities  and  towns. 

A  stable,  then,  must  be  looked  upon  as 
a  necessary  evil,  and  our  aim  should  be  to 
minimize  the  evil,  or,  if  possible,  eliminate 
it  entirely.  The  evil  is  in  the  restricted 
supply  of  oxygen,  and  this  can  only  be 
corrected  by  making  the  stable  as  fresh  as 
the  pasture  ground  or  the  prairie. 

I  have  been  experimenting  in  this  way 


51 

for  the  last  five  years,  and  I  find  that  a 
stable  can  be  built  that  will  give  absolutely 
the  same  results  as  are  gotten  by  dispens- 
ing with  them  altogether,  and  the  horses 
kept  in  such  stables  can  be  used  without 
shoes,  either  in  harness  or  under  the 
saddle. 

I  have  driven  my  own  gig  horse  without 
shoes  for  nine  months — winter,  spring 
and  summer, —  and  my  saddle  horse  has 
not  been  shod  in  a  year,  although  riding 
him  from  March  to  December  over  ma- 
cadam roads,  boulder  stone  pavement,  vit- 
rified brick,  and  country  roads,  and  his 
hoofs  are  perfect.  Everyone  knows  that 
saddle  work  is  harder  on  the  feet  than 
work  in  harness,  and  my  usual  weight 
is   170  pounds.     His  feet  wear  true  and 


52 

smooth,  and  His  liind  feet  keep  their  points, 
are  nicely  oval — we  may  say  spoon-shaped, 
— his  front  feet  are  slightly  worn  at  the 
toes — rounded  a  little,  just  as  an  iron 
shoe  wears  at  this  point.  The  farriers 
and  veterinarians  who  have  seen  him,  and 
known  how  much  and  how  long  I  have 
used  him  without  shoes,  consider  the  re- 
sult as  very  wonderful. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  recount  the 
advantages  of  this  method.  Besides  the 
expense  and  trouble  of  sending  a  horse  to 
the  shop  to  have  him  shod,  at  least  a  dozen 
times  a  year,  he,  of  course,  never  ''cuts" 
himself — he  is  in  no  danger  of  "calking" 
himself,  an  accident  so  common  in  winter 
when  sharp-shod ;  he  is  not  subject  to 
"capped  elbow,"  he  never  "balls"  in  snow. 


53 

and  lie  does  not  slip  on  the  ice.  This  I 
know  from  personal  observation.  Neither 
does  he  slip  on  wet  and  slippery  asphalt 
or  vitrified  brick,  or  any  of  the  smooth- 
faced pavements  of  cities,  which  have  been 
so  much  complained  of  by  horsemen  as 
dangerous  on  account  of  their  extreme 
slipperiness  in  wet  weather. 

I  have  carefully  compared  the  growth 
of  the  hoof  of  an  animal  stabled  as  de- 
scribed with  that  of  horses  brought  from 
city  stables  and  turned  to  pasture  without 
shelter  for  a  course  of  four  or  five  months. 
If  one  will  observe  the  effect  on  the  nutrition 
of  the  hoof  that  occurs  in  a  horse  that  has 
long  been  closely  stabled  and  is  then 
turned  outdoors  to  pasture,  he  will  see 
that  this  effect  can  easily  be  recognized  by 


54 

the  naked  eye.  The  hoof  grows  about  a 
quarter  of  an  inch  per  month,  so  that  in 
three  months  three-quarters  of  an  inch  of 
new  hoof  will  have  been  formed.  It  is  so 
different  that  its  growth  can  be  followed 
by  the  eye,  month  by  month.  Its  grain 
is  finer,  its  surface  smoother,  it  is  much 
bluer  in  color,  and  it  is  also  a  little  smaller 
in  diameter — about  one-sixteenth  of  an 
inch  on  each  side.  This  can  be  followed 
in  a  pasture  field,  for  about  five  months, 
to  the  closing  of  the  pasture  season,  and 
is  accounted  for  by  the  farmers  as  due  to 
the  dampness  of  the  ground  and  the  dew 
on  the  pasture.  But  I  have  followed  it 
through  the  entire  year  in  a  stable  that  is 
absolutely  fresh,  and  have  compared  the 
hoofs  grown  in  such  a  stable  with  those 


55 

grown  in  a  pasture  field,  and  they  are 
absolutely  identical.  But  when  the  horses 
are  taken  from  the  pasture  and  put  back 
in  their  accustomed  close  stable,  the  re- 
verse change  will  be  observed.  If  the  hoof 
is  washed  so  as  to  expose  its  surface,  the 
changes  in  the  growth  of  the  hoof  will  be 
quite  distinct.  Now  it  will  be  coarser, 
rougher,  and  less  blue — or  rather  grayish 
—  and  a  little  larger.  Five  months  in 
open  pasture  will  give  about  one  inch  and 
a  quarter.  Seven  months  of  close  stabling 
will  give  one  inch  and  three-quarters,  mak- 
ing about  three  inches  as  the  length  of 
the  hoof  It  is  a  little  more  than  this, 
but  the  difference  is  here  practically  of 
no  consequence.  Now  the  last  inch  and 
three-quarters,   of  course,  is  grown  last, 


56 

and  therefore  that  will  be  above,  and  the 
inch  and  a  quarter  of  good  hoof,  having 
grown  in  the  pasture  the  summer  before, 
will  be  below,  and  that  you  will  find  if  the 
foot  is  examined  in  the  spring.  I  have 
observed  it  in  scores  of  farmers'  horses,  in 
the  spring,  when  there  happened  to  be 
snow  on  the  ground,  which  washed  the 
feet  in  coming  to  town  and  exposed  the 
grain  of  the  hoof  to  view  as  they  were 
standing  on  the  street.  It  was  the  great 
difference  in  the  hoof  grown  in  the  open 
air  from  the  hoof  grown  in  an  ordinary 
stable  that  attracted  my  attention,  and 
when  I  found  I  could  preserve  this  open 
air  character,  and  continue  its  growth 
during  the  whole  year,  I  determined  to 
test  its  strength  practically,  and  the  result 
I  have  already  stated. 


57 

If  you  divide  the  time  necessary  to  grow 
a  new  hoof  from  the  matrix  (coronet)  to 
the  free  edge,  which  requires  about  twelve 
months,  and  keep  the  animal  four  months 
in  the  open  air  and  then  four  months  in  a 
closed  stable,  and  then  again  four  months 
in  the  open  air,  an  examination  of  the  hoof 
then  will  show  three  bands  of  growth, 
easily  distinguishable.  At  the  free  edge 
about  one  inch  of  good  healthy  strong 
hoof,  the  first  grown  of  the  series,  then 
about  one  inch  of  rough,  weak  hoof,  formed 
in  the  second  four  months,  while  in  the 
closed  stable,  then  about  one  inch  of  good 
hoof,  extending  to  the  matrix  (coronet), 
and  grown  during  the  time  of  the  last  four 
months,  in  the  open.  I  have  occasionally 
observed  such  hoofs.     In  observing  these 


58 

changes  in  the  character  of  the  hoof,  it  is 
of  course  necessary  that  in  alternating 
between  close  stabling  and  open  air,  the 
transition  should  be  sharp  and  decisive, 
otherwise  the  result  will  not  be  clearly 
defined.  It  is  very  well  marked  in  the 
case  of  farmers  who  shut  their  horses  up 
very  closely  in  banked-stables  during  the 
winter,  using  them  but  little,  and  keep- 
ing them  outdoors  most  of  the  time  in  the 
warmer  months.  If  the  alternations  are 
irregular,  or  not  pronounced,  the  result 
will  be  correspondingly  confused  and  ob- 
scure. 

This  change  of  nutrition  extends  from 
what  we  can  see  to  what  we  cannot  see. 

It  would  scarcely  be  reasonable  to  sup- 
pose that  one  part  of  the  hoof — the  outer 


59 

shell,  for  instance — would  undergo  a 
change  of  nutrition  so  marked  and  ob- 
servable without  corresponding  change  in 
other  parts  of  the  hoof  The  sole  would 
necessarily  be  effected  in  the  same  man- 
ner and  degree. 

I  had  an  accidental  illustration  of  this 
in  my  own  horse,  while  driving  one  day  in 
February,  when  the  weather  was  cold,  and 
with  a  few  inches  of  snow  on  the  ground, 
I  noticed  that  he  suddenly  limped  for  a 
few  paces.  As  this  had  not  occurred  be- 
fore, it  attracted  my  attention.  It  passed 
off  immediately,  however,  and  I  thought 
no  more  of  it,  as  he  traveled  over  the 
frozen  streets  without  showing  any  dis- 
comfort, and  trotted  into  the  carriage- 
house,  with  its  hard  plank  floor,  without 


6o 

any  sign  of  inconvenience.  On  acciden- 
tally taking  up  his  front  foot,  as  I  was  in 
the  habit  of  doing  occasionally,  to  my  sur- 
prise I  found  a  ten-penny  cut  nail  which 
had  entered  the  cleft  of  the  frog  and  was 
bent  over  and  lying  flat  on  the  sole.  On 
taking  hold  of  it,  I  found  it  quite  loose, 
but  could  not  get  it  out,  and  the  hostler 
coming  up,  seized  it  with  pincers  and 
pulled  it  out,  tearing  the  frog  somewhat 
in  doing  so.  On  examining  the  nail,  the 
end  was  found  bent  around  in  the  form  of 
a  hook,  which  accounted  for  the  difficulty 
in  pulling  it  out,  and  likewise,  for  the 
tearing  of  the  frog.  Now  this  nail,  which 
was  a  new  one,  must  have  been  straight 
when  it  entered  the  frog,  and  could  only 
have  been  bent  by  encountering  the  hard 


6i 

and  tough  laminae  of  the  sole.  When  the 
point  first  impinged  against  the  sole,  as  it 
was  driven  in  by  the  blow  of  the  foot,  it 
was  felt,  and  caused  lameness  for  a  few 
steps,  but  being  deflected,  and  its  point 
bent  round,  it  could  go  no  further,  and  the 
subsequent  blows  of  the  foot  flattened  it 
against  the  sole,  and  it  caused  no  more  in- 
convenience. The  horse  showed  no  lame- 
ness afterward,  and  I  doubt  if  it  would 
have  caused  any  trouble  had  it  remained. 
I  have  known  horses  to  have  the  sole  of 
the  foot  penetrated,  with  considerable 
bleeding,  by  accidentally  stepping  on  the 
sharp  point  of  a  dry  lilac-stock  that  had 
been  cut  off  obliquely.  What  would  be- 
come of  wild  horses  if  their  feet  were  so 
vulnerable  ?  How  long  would  they  escape 
the  wolves  ? 


62 

At  tHe  risk  of  a  little  apparent  repeti- 
tion, I  wisli  to  refer  a  moment  to  the  effect 
of  dryness  and  humidity  upon  the  hoof. 
It  will  be  observed  that  as  the  hoof  grows 
during  the  winter — that  is,  for  the  five 
months  from  the  first  of  November  to  the 
first  of  the  following  April, — the  coarse, 
weak  hoof  that  is  grown  in  the  closed 
stable  during  that  time  gradually  pushes 
down  before  it  the  portion  of  good  hoof 
that  was  grown  during  the  previous  sum- 
mer— that  is,  in  July,  August,  September 
and  October, —  and  in  the  spring — that  is 
to  say,  in  April,  May  and  June — the  wear 
will  be  entirely  on  this  good  portion  of  the 
hoof.  But  by  about  the  first  of  July  this 
part  of  the  hoof  will  be  worn  out  and  the 
wear  will  begin  on  the  weak  winter  growth, 


63 

and  this  will  continue  during  tHe  rest  of 
the  summer  and  the  following  fall,  and 
the  difference  in  the  strength  of  the  two 
growths  will  be  noticeable.  This  has  given 
rise  to  the  belief,  which  is  very  general, 
that  the  hot  dry  roads  of  this  season  of 
the  year  have  caused  the  hoof  to  become 
weak  and  brittle,  not  perceiving  that  the 
animal  is  really  wearing  upon  the  weak 
growth  of  the  previous  winter,  and  its 
weakness  and  brittleness  are  owing  to  its 
having  been  grown  in  a  closed  stable,  and 
not  to  the  hot,  dry  roads.  So  in  the  spring 
and  early  summer,  when  the  hoof  seems 
stronger  and  better,  its  condition  is  thought 
to  be  owing  to  the  coolness  and  wetness  of 
the  roads.  It  is  therefore  a  common  belief 
that  wetness  and  moist  roads  are  good  for 


64 

a  horse's  feet,  not  understanding  that  at 
this  time  the  strong  portion  of  the  hoof 
grown  in  the  previous  summer  and  early 
fall  is  bearing  the  strain. 

Now  it  must  be  apparent  that  dryness 
or  wetness  cannot  be  important  factors  as 
effecting  the  strength  or  condition  of  the 
hoof,  else  why  is  the  hoof  equally  good  in 
Ireland,  where  it  is  almost  constantly  wet 
and  cool,  and  in  Arabia,  where  it  is  almost 
constantly  dry  and  hot  ?  Anyone  who  has 
noticed  the  hoofs  of  dead  horses  lying  in 
the  fields,  not  only  for  months,  but  for 
years,  without  *any  perceptible  change, 
must  see  that  wet  does  not  soften  them  or 
dryness  make  them  friable,  nor  even  freez- 
ing cause  their  disintegration.  The  hoof 
is  not  hygroscopic  to  any  appreciable  ex- 


65 

tent  anymore  than  a  bull's  horn.  If  it 
were  otherwise,  horses  that  are  worked  in 
water,  or  on  muddy  roads,  for  weeks  at  a 
time,  as  they  constantly  are,  would  be  very 
soon  disabled,  and  horses  that  traverse  the 
hot  and  sandy  deserts  of  Arabia  would 
soon  have  nothing  of  the  foot  left  but  a 
friable,  broken-up  mass  of  crumbling  hoof. 

And  thus  we  can  see  how  futile  must  be 
the  effect  of  poultices  and  wet  applications 
and  the  various  hoof  ointments  that  are 
so  much  relied  on  to  improve  the  texture 
and  condition  of  the  hoof  They  simply 
produce  the  effect  of  a  temporary  varnish, 
improving,  perhaps,  its  appearance,  and 
thus  deceiving  the  eye  without  affecting 
in  any  way  its  substance. 

Any  change  in  the  quality  and  texture 


66 

of  a  hoof  must  be  effected  at  the  time  of 
its  growth  at  the  matrix. 

When  a  layer  of  hoof  is  formed,  the  work 
is  completed  so  far  as  the  active  vital  pro- 
cesses are  concerned.  These  vital  pro- 
cesses are  active  only  within  the  hoof,  in 
the  sensitive  parts,  not  in  the  outer  insen- 
sitive parts — the  hoof  proper,  as  distin- 
guished from  the  foot, —  and  the  hoof  be- 
comes, and  is  to  all  intents  and  purposes, 
an  inorganic  product.  It  has  the  proper- 
ties of  hardness,  elasticity,  toughness  and 
durability.  It  is  insensitive,  and  resists 
decay  or  change,  whether  on  the  living 
animal  or  removed  from  the  foot,  and  its 
removal  makes  no  difference  in  these  pro- 
perties. 

It  is  as  resistant  to  change  as  ivory  or 


67 

whalebone.  Its  quality  depends  on  the 
condition  of  the  blood  of  the  animal  at  the 
time  of  its  formation.  As  it  was  formed, 
so  it  remains,  and  it  can  only  be  modified 
by  conditions  that  effect  its  nutrition  as 
it  is  gradually  being  constructed. 

And  now  we  can  truthfully  say, — ^'' a 
pede  herculem^^ — as  the  foot  is,  so  is  the 
horse.  If  by  securing  and  maintaining  a 
perfectly  healthy  environment  for  our  ani- 
mal, we  get  perfect  feet,  all  the  other  tissues 
of  the  body  will  share  in  the  betterment. 

But  no  one  must  suppose  that  a  horse 
kept  as  I  have  described  will  go  without 
shoes  in  a  few  weeks,  or  months.  If  used^ 
he  must  be  kept  shod  for  at  least  a  year, 
because  it  takes  that  length  of  time  to 
grow  an  entire  hoof,  and  he  must  not  be 


68 

allowed  to  contract  "tlmish,"  and  if  lie  is 
suffering  from  "thrush,"  it  must  be  cured, 
or  otherwise  his  frog  will  be  tender  and  he 
will  not  be  able  to  go.  Of  course,  no  horse 
should  be  allowed  to  have  thrush,  as  it  is 
produced  by  standing  on  fermenting  dung, 
and  is  evidently  microbic  in  its  nature. 
It  is  therefore  easily  preventable,  and  is 
cured  by  a  number  of  microbicides,  such 
as  carbolic  acid,  sulphate  of  zinc,  corrosive 
sublimate,  etc.  But  perhaps  the  most 
convenient  is  dry  calomel. 

I  have  spoken  of  this,  rather  more  in 
detail  than  I  otherwise  would,  even  trench- 
ing a  little  on  medication,  which  is  rather 
the  province  of  the  veterinarian,  and  some- 
what foreign  to  the  general  line  of  thought 
we  have  been  pursuing,  because  "  thrush  " 


69 

is  among  tHe  few  diseases  that  are  not  de- 
pendent upon  the  condition  of  the  air,  but 
is  due  to  the  pollution  of  the  stall  by  the 
excrement  of  the  animal. 

Here  let  us  observe,  that  the  horse,  one 
of  the  cleanliest  and  most  fastidious  of 
animals,  does  not  seem  to  possess  these 
traits  when  stabled.  This  plainly  shows 
that  he  was  never  intended  to  be  stabled. 
Nest-building  or  nest-hunting-animals  are 
always  tidy  about  their  sleeping  places. 
Everybody  must  have  observed  that  dogs 
never  soil  their  beds,  and  this  is  true,  in 
every  instance,  and  of  all  such  animals ; 
even  the  hog,  that  was  certainly  never 
noted  for  his  neatness,  has  this  instinct. 
But  the  horse  is  entirely  indifferent  to, 
and  exercises  no  care  in  this  matter  at  all. 


70 

Why?  Simply  because  a  nest  is  foreign 
to  his  nature.  When  he  urinates,  how- 
ever, he  carefully  extends  his  fore  legs, 
to  avoid  having  them  spattered  and  soiled. 
He  uses  care  here.  But  when  you  put 
him  in  a  stable  and  force  him  to  sleep  in  a 
nest,  contrary  to  his  nature,  his  instincts, 
not  having  been  educated  to  the  caring  for 
and  keeping  of  a  nest,  are  at  fault,  and 
necessarily  so  in  an  animal  whose  home 
is  the  open  plain,  and  who  seldom,  or 
never,  sleeps  twice  in  the  same  spot,  but 
finds  a  fresh  place  to  rest  whenever  his 
needs  require. 

In  whatever  direction  we  look,  whether 
we  take  into  view  his  natural  history,  and 
study  him  in  his  wild  state,  or  as  we  find 
him  among  savage  or  semi-civilized  peo- 


71 

pies,  or,  as  lie  is  under  our  own  care,  ob- 
serving his  Habits  and  bis  instincts,  and 
tbe  diseases  and  disabilities  to  which  he  is 
subject,  we  cannot  fail  to  recognize  the 
fact  that  in  his  whole  organization  and 
development  he  is  a  free,  wild,  roaming 
child  of  the  air,  without  local  habitation, 
gathering  his  food  where  it  grows,  seeking 
it  wherever  it  may  be  found,  and  migrat- 
ing from  place  to  place,  as  suits  his  com- 
fort and  convenience.  When  we  catch 
him  and  restrain  him  of  his  liberty,  for 
our  own  use,  and  teach  him  to  do  our  bid- 
ding, we  must  not  restrain  him  of  his  right 
to  breathe  his  native  air,  and  we  must  also 
be  careful  to  supplement  his  lack  of  the 
nest-keeping  instinct  by  taking  care  of  his 
nest  for  him. 


72 

These  two  things  are  essential  to  his 
well-being :  pure  air  to  breathe  and  a  clean 
stall  to  stand  in. 

It  is  not  my  intention  to  describe,  mi- 
nutely, how  a  stable  should  be  built.  The 
details  of  this  must  depend  on  varying 
and  varied  conditions.  It  should,  however, 
be  supplied  with  plenty  of  windows,  but 
without  any  glass  in  the  sash.  Wire 
screening,  of  about  one  eighth  inch  mesh, 
is  much  better,  as  it  lets  in  both  light  and 
air,  and  at  the  same  time  shuts  out  the 
larger  flies  and  other  insects,  and  protects 
the  horse  from  annoyance  by  children  and 
other  thoughtless  or  malicious  persons, 
and  causes  the  air  to  come  in  slowly  and 
steadily,  without  much  blowing.  There 
should  be  no  shutters  on  these  windows. 


73 

as  tlie  stablemen  are  sure  to  shut  tliem 
on  cold  or  stormy  nights  and  in  wintry 
weather.  I  say  this  from  personal  expe- 
rience, as  I  was  obliged  to  have  them  re- 
moved from  my  stable  for  this  very  reason. 
They  should  be  protected,  however,  by  a 
hood,  or  some  other  contrivance,  to  keep 
out  driving  rain,  or  drifting  snow — not 
that  rain  or  snow  would  hurt  the  horse, 
for  it  would  not,  but  is  inconvenient  and 
unpleasant  for  the  attendants  and  owner. 
How  this  is  to  be  done  is  a  matter  for  the 
builder  or  architect  to  manage. 

My  stable  has  a  ten-foot  overhang  on 
the  north  side,  and  most  of  my  windows 
are  on  that  side.  Only  one  window  on  the 
east  gives  me  any  trouble  at  all  in  this 
way,  but  as  the  snow  falls  on  the  floor,  in 


74 

front  of  the  manger,  it  is  easily  swept  np, 
and  gives  me  no  concern. 

The  ventilators  should  be  large  and  ar- 
ranged at  the  discretion  of  the  builder. 
But  they  must  be  ventilators  in  fact,  and 
not  alone  in  name.  They  should  have  no 
closing  valve,  for  they  should  remain  open 
all  the  time.  It  should  be  remembered, 
however,  that  to  maintain  an  air  current, 
requires  the  expenditure  of  force,  and  this 
must  be  provided  for  in  some  way.  In 
winter  I  find  nothing  better  than  an  open 
grate  fire  in  the  stable,  and  in  summer  I 
have  found  that  the  sun's  rays  falling  on 
the  roof  and  front  of  the  building  can  be 
utilized,  and  is  sufScient  to  excite  a  satis- 
factory current,  and  is  quite  inexpensive. 
This,  however,  is  a  matter  of  mechanical 
detail. 


75 

But  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  a  sta- 
ble requires  much  more  air  than  a  dwell- 
ing house.  Aside  from  the  fact  that  a 
horse  requires  more  fresh  air  than  a  man, 
from  his  original  nature  and  constitution 
— not  being  an  animal  that  in  his  wild 
condition  seeks  any  shelter, —  aside  from 
this,  I  say,  his  habits  differ  very  much  from 
those  of  man. 

As  I  have  already  said,  he  urinates  in 
his  stall,  or  box,  and  drops  his  dung  w^here 
he  stands,  and  this  requires  an  extra  allow- 
ance of  air  to  keep  down  unpleasant  and 
unwholesome  odors.  What  would  be  the 
condition  of  the  air  in  a  bed-room  if  man 
adopted  the  habits  of  the  horse?  And  yet 
we  have  seen  that,  ordinarily,  man  sup- 
plies himself  with  a  much  larger  amount 


76 

of  air  than  he  gives  his  horse.  Neither 
should  we  forget  that  the  air  of  a  close 
stable  is  a  hotbed  of  microbic  forms.  All 
kinds  of  pathological  germs  multiply  here 
with  great  rapidity,  and  if  the  horse  is  in- 
jured  by  kicks,  or  other  accidents,  he  will 
be  very  liable  to  suffer  from  this  cause, 
and  as  tuberculosis  and  tetanus,  especially 
the  latter,  are  common  among  horses,  and 
as  these  diseases  are  now  considered  of 
microbic  origin,  his  risks  are  increased  by 
this  exposure. 

Finally,  the  method  of  stabling  we  have 
been  advocating  commends  itself  to  us, 
not  only  because  it  conserves  the  health 
and  well-being  of  the  animal,  but  also  as  a 
matter  of  convenience  to  the  keeper.  As 
there  are  no  window-shutters  to  be  opened 


77 

and  shut,  they  require  no  attention;  the 
stable  requires  no  airing  in  the  morning, 
because  it  is  always  aired ;  and  when  being 
cleaned  and  swept,  the  dust  is  immediately 
carried  out  by  the  air  currents,  so  as  not 
to  be  annoying. 

But  it  should  be  distinctly  understood 
and  remembered,  that  the  inorganic  dust 
is  much  less  harmful  than  the  organic 
dust — those  microscopic  germs,  before 
spoken  of,  which,  though  they  cannot  be 
seen,  are  potent  for  evil,  ^'the  invisible 
powers  of  the  air,"  whose  acquaintance  we 
have  formed  only  in  recent  years,  which 
commit  their  depredations  in  the  quiet, 
and  on  the  sly,  and  which  revel  most  where 
the  air  is  most  foul  and  most  stagnant. 

But  of  much  more  consequence  is  the 


78 

fact  that  a  horse  may  be  kept  in  such  a 
stable,  weeks  and  months,  without  injury. 

As  ordinarily  kept,  a  horse  must  be 
taken  out  and  exercised  at  stated  periods, 
or  he  will  suffer.  But  he  may  be  abso- 
lutely confined  to  such  a  stable  without  be- 
ing taken  out  at  all,  especially  if  kept  in  a 
box,  and  he  will  suffer  no  harm.  He  will 
not  get  stiff,  his  legs  will  not  ''stock,"  nor 
will  he  lose  his  appetite.  He  will  remain 
perfectly  well.  I  have  seen  this  done  so 
often,  in  the  last  two  years,  that  I  cannot 
be  too  positive  about  it.  And  this  means 
a  good  deal  in  long  storms  and  inclement 
weather  of  any  kind. 

To  illustrate  this,  I  will  say,  that  during 
the  last  two  years  I  have  seen  a  fine  Ken- 
tucky saddle   horse   so   stiffened   in   the 


79 

shoulders  by  hard  riding  and  close  stab- 
ling that  he  had  been  condemned  as  per- 
fectly worthless,  and  sold  for  a  few  dollars, 
after  having  undergone  all  the  traditional 
treatment  for  that  condition,  for  a  long 
time,  without  benefit. 

This  horse  was  so  disabled  that  he  could 
hardly  get  in  or  out  of  the  stable;  he 
could  not  step  backward  with  his  left 
foot  at  all,  being  obliged  to  drag  it  when 
moving,  or  trying  to  move,  in  that  direc- 
tion. This  horse,  kept  as  I  have  herein 
indicated,  and  without  any  other  treat- 
ment whatever,  in  six  months  could  be 
ridden  with  little  show  of  lameless,  in  one 
year  he  moved  nicely,  and  in  eighteen 
months  was  practically  well.  For  the  first 
year,  he  was  almost  constantly  in  his  box. 


8o 

and  only  taken  ont  at  long  intervals.  For 
the  first  five  months  he  was  not  taken  out  at 
all,  and  yet  his  improvement  was  constant 
and  continuous.  So  these  conditions,  thor- 
oughly maintained,  conserve  not  only,  but 
at  the  same  time  restore  health.  Colonel 
Ingersoll  is  reported  to  have  said,  that  "if 
he  had  made  the  world,  he  would  have 
made  health  catching,  instead  of  disease." 
That  result  to  horses  will  be  realized  if 
the  conditions  I  have  described  are  fully 
complied  with. 

At  the  risk  of  seeming  prolix,  I  will  add 
here,  that  I  have  seen  a  young  horse, 
"over  at  the  knees,"  with  swelled  hocks, 
and  in  bad  condition  generally,  completely 
recover  in  a  year  by  this  method,  and  re- 
main well,  though  subjected  to  constant 


8i 


hard  usage,  and  tliat  animal  is  still  in  per- 
fect condition;    and  a  horse  so  disabled 
from  what  is  commonly  called  "heaves," 
that  it  could  scarcely  be  driven,  completely 
cured  in  less  than  a  year,  and  subsequently 
sold  as  a  sound  animal.    Cases  of  so-called 
"  sweeny," — paresis  of  the  supra  and  infra- 
spinatus muscles  of  the  shoulder,— various 
eye  diseases,  etc.,  have  disappeared  with- 
out medication  of  any  kind,  under  this 
method,  and  during  last  winter  (i892-'93), 
the  coldest  winter  we  have  had  for  years, 
out  of  a  dozen  horses  so  kept,  not  one  had 
a  cough  or  cold,  or  suffered  from  sickness 
in  any  way,  although  I  frequently  saw, 
on  very  cold  days,  the  nostrils  covered 
with  frost  from  the  congealed  vapor  of  the 
breath.     No  horse  was  blanketed,  and  no 
horse  shivered. 


82 

It  will  be  found  also  that  the  behavior 
of  a  horse  leaving  a  cool,  fresh  stable  on  a 
cold  morning,  is  in  marked  contrast  with 
the  conduct  of  a  horse  leaving  a  close, 
warm  one. 

The  former  comes  out  quietly  and 
sprightly;  he  sniffs  the  cold  air,  but  is 
not  unduly  excited  by  it.  He  seems  to 
enjoy  it  without  the  least  discomfort, 
while  the  latter  is  nervous,  restless,  exci- 
ted, sometimes  shivers,  can  hardly  be  kept 
quiet,  and  is  difficult  to  control.  Drive 
the  first-mentioned  horse  five  miles  or  so, 
and  at  the  end  of  the  drive  he  is  just  as 
fresh  and  free  as  at  the  start — sometimes 
even  more  so.  He  sweats,  if  at  all,  very 
moderately,  and  he  is  quite  ready  for 
another  dash.     The  latter,  after  driving 


83 

about  the  same  distance,  will  lose  spirit, 
toss  His  head  up  and  down,  as  if  fatigued, 
lop  his  ears,  require  the  touch  of  the  whip, 
every  little  while,  to  prevent  his  lagging, 
and  move  reluctant,  as  "  the  whining 
school-boy,  creeping  like  snail  unwillingly 
to  school," — and  instead  of  sweating  on 
his  neck,  shoulders  and  flanks,  as  in  the 
former  case,  will  sweat  profusely  all  over, 
and  to  such  a  degree  as  to  have  forced 
upon  us  the  practice  of  clipping  and  singe- 
ing, as  before  mentioned.  On  stopping,  it 
suggests  the  necessity  of  a  blanket,  which 
is  never  needed  in  the  case  of  the  first- 
mentioned  horse,  who  can  stop  after  a  drive 
in  the  cold  air  with  perfect  impunity.  I 
have  seen  my  own  horse,and  he  was  a  high- 
strung  and  nervous  animal,  stand  an  hour 


84 

tied  to  a  post  at  the  curbstone,  after  a  drive, 
when  the  thermometer  was  near  zero,  and 
instead  of  being  restless  and  impatient, 
have  found  him  quietly  dozing. 

The  horse  blanket  then,  instead  of  be- 
ing, as  many  think,  a  positive  necessity, 
is  merely  a  matter  of  fancy — ornamental, 
perhaps,  but  quite  unscientific, —  giving 
much  more  comfort  to  the  owner  than  to 
the  animal.     Personally,  I  never  use  one. 

It  should  not  entirely  escape  our  atten- 
tion, that  when  we  cover  a  horse  with  a 
blanket,  no  matter  how  much  imaginary 
pleasure  it  may  afford  us,  we  are  really 
only  trying  to  protect  the  toughest  part  of 
the  animal, — his  roof,  as  it  were,  where  the 
skin  is  the  thickest,  and  the  coat  heaviest, 
and  the  sensibility  the  least, — while  the 


85 

cold  air  has  free  access  to  the  under  parts 
of  the  body,  where  the  skin  is  the  thinnest, 
and  the  coat  lightest,  and  the  sensibility 
much  the  greatest. 

The  truth  of  it  is,  we  have  not  hereto- 
fore been  governed  in  these  matters  by 
reason,  but  rather  by  a  sickly  sentimen- 
tality and  unknowledge.  A  horse  cannot 
speak.  He  is  incapable  of  expressing  his 
wants,  or  feelings,  in  articulate  language. 
If  he  could,  he  would  indulge  in  a  great 
deal  of  profanity,  very  likely.  But  to  the 
observant,  he  need  not  talk.  When  he 
pricks  up  his  ears,  and  is  quick  and  vigo- 
rous in  his  movements,  his  eyes  bright, 
and  eats  with  a  relish,  and  does  not  shiver, 
one  may  safely  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  he  is  not  unhappy. 


86 

If  what  I  have  written  is  true,  and  it  is 
true,  the  greater  part  of  veterinary  medi- 
cine will  have  to  be  rewritten. 

All  the  diseases  produced  by  the  defi- 
cient oxidation  of  tissue  must  be  elimina- 
ted, and  aside  from  accidents,  traumatisms, 
etc.,  very  many  horse  diseases,  now  recog- 
nized, will  go  the  way  of '' miliary  fever," 
and  such  like  afflictions  of  mankind  that 
flourished  two  or  three  hundred  years  ago, 
when  physicians  shut  their  patients  in 
close  rooms,  stuffed  cotton  in  the  key-holes, 
caulked  the  window  and  door  cracks, 
sweltered  the  sick  under  loads  of  blankets, 
and  gave  hot  drinks  to  sweat  out  disease, 
until  at  last  it  was  found  that  fresh  air 
and  cleanliness  had  a  value,  and  now  even 
the  names  of  these  diseases  are  found  only 
in  medical  text-books  of  a  century  ago. 


87 

Tliere  was,  of  course,  some  excuse  for 
these  old  doctors.  Little  was  then  known 
of  the  functions  and  philosophy  of  respi- 
ration, and  even  the  existence  of  a  pul- 
monary circulation  had  hardly  been  dis- 
covered, and  was  not  at  all  understood. 
But  this  excuse  is  not  available  for  us  in 
the  closing  days  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
and  it  is  a  sad  commentary  on  the  intelli- 
gence of  educated  man,  and  we  may  add, 
of  the  medical  profession,  that  in  this  re- 
gard we  have  retrograded  instead  of  ad- 
vancing ;  and  in  caring  for  our  horses,  we 
are  practically  behind  the  semi-civilized, 
and  even  savage  races. 


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